


Where Your Soul Goes, You Will Find Me

by NuriaSchnee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Comfort, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley Was an Archangel Before Falling (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Discorporated Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, God Loves Crowley (Good Omens), God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Heaven, Holy Water, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon, Rescue, Romance, mild violence, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27040198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuriaSchnee/pseuds/NuriaSchnee
Summary: Aziraphale gets discorporated and Crowley storms into Heaven to save him. However, they find themselves trapped inside and Crowley comes up with a plan to get them out: ask for God's forgiveness, for Her to turn him into an angel again.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 179





	Where Your Soul Goes, You Will Find Me

It had been something stupid, surely. A slip. A foot placed wrong on the next step. A fall backwards. Surely, it had been that: a small mistake. However, it had been enough to get himself discorporated. 

Crowley had woken up in  _ such a good mood _ that day, really. He felt particularly eager to see Aziraphale that morning, even if they hadn’t planned anything out of the ordinary: a stroll through Saint James Park and lunch afterwards. He even brought the angel some pastries on his way to the bookshop and walked to its door with a bright joy bubbling in his chest. A joy that was crushed instantly, after he had stepped inside. 

The demon found himself on his knees right away, pastries falling somewhere, abandoned, staring at the horrid scene before him. He stayed very still for long, trying to convince himself that this was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. But he knew those enough to discern this was very real. 

Trembling, unable to stand up, he crawled to Aziraphale’s body, laying near the end of the stairs, a pool of blood formed under his head, books all around him and over the steps. Crowley placed his hands on his chest, gingerly, finding just stillness. He made a pathetic sound, slipping his hands under him and reclining his body, hugging the empty vessel. A scream escaped him at some point, when the realization hit him, twisting into broken cries.

Crowley shouted and cursed, bawled until his voice shattered. He blamed Aziraphale for being so stupid, so careless, getting himself discorporated in such a silly way. He blamed himself, so immersed in joy that he hadn’t noticed his friend was in trouble, how he left Earth. But none of that mattered: Aziraphale was in Heaven now and there was no way he was getting a new body. Crowley was alone for good. 

He stayed there for an indefinite amount of time, cries turning into silent tears eventually, frantic thoughts into nothingness, and rocked and rocked, hugging Aziraphale’s body tightly. Crowley wished he’d been braver, enough to ask for a hug, to grab the angel’s hand as they walked. He wished he’d told Aziraphale the truth of what he felt. 

Maybe it was the denial that made him stand up, or the unnamed hope still roaring in a hidden corner of his soul, or pure stupidity. Maybe, it was all that at the same time. No matter what was driving his motivation, it didn’t change the fact that Crowley ran, ran and ran, blind, furious and crazed. He ran through London’s streets, into a building, and climbed a mechanic stair with a few strides. He stormed into Heaven and kept running, no matter how many angels tried to stop or fight him. He ran, following his senses to Aziraphale. Until he found him.

He ended up in one of the empty and huge rooms of Heaven, crossing the door, breathless, and almost falling to the floor. He saw Aziraphale near the windows, looking through them, and Crowley almost whined with relief. However, a group of angels seemed to be waiting for him near the door, grabbing his arms and extended wings, hitting him and driving him to his knees. Aziraphale turned around then, horrified eyes meeting Crowley’s. Crowley noticed then a couple of Archangels in the room. Gabriel was towering over Aziraphale, while Michael watched the scene and talked to a few angels nearby. 

It wasn’t like Crowley hadn’t expected this, exactly. He’d stormed into Heaven without a plan, causing absolute chaos. Obviously, after everything that had happened, every angel in Heaven would know, after seeing Crowley, what he was doing there. He didn’t care, really. He had only a thing in mind and damn him again if he wasn’t going to accomplish it.

“Aziraphale!” He screamed, his voice breaking, rough with hours of crying. He felt the angels grab him harder, hurting him, and made a grimace but ignored them. Aziraphale stared at him through the distance, his eyes getting misty. “You stupid angel! How could you get discorporated like that? I’m…! I  _ ssss _ wear, you’re unbelievably clumsy!”

Aziraphale made a face, seeming to hold back tears, and rushed towards Crowley before anybody could stop him. Crowley let out a sigh when he had the angel before him, unable to contain his own tears, and fought against the hands pinning him down, wanting to touch Aziraphale. The angel seemed to be driven by the same inclination, placing his hands over Crowley’s face. However, his fingers slipped through the skin of the demon, incorporeal as he was now. 

“ _ You _ stupid demon!” He scolded him, almost whimpering, and kept his fingers over Crowley’s cheeks, even if he couldn’t really touch him. “Are you out of your mind, coming here  _ like that _ ?”

A group of angels rushed to Aziraphale, trying to grab him and drag him away from Crowley. Obviously, they couldn’t, since there was just his spirit there, no flesh to grab.  _ Dumbasses _ .

“Aziraph…!” 

He was cut off, when somebody hit his head, and they tried to pin him to the floor. 

“No!” He heard Azirpahale cry desperately. “Stop!”

The demon resisted through the pain, pushed against the hands, trying to flap his wings and bend his body into a straighter position. Somebody grabbed his hair with roughness, pushing him down.

“Please!” The angel yelled. “Leave him be!”

Crowley looked up, half bent to the floor. Aziraphale was kneeling now, hands still hovering over Crowley, unable to do anything.

“Angel, listen,” Crowley said roughly, but he didn’t look at him straight away. “ _ Angel, please _ …”

Nevertheless, Aziraphale straightened, eyes widening with terror, and stood up. “No! No! Please!” 

He tried to look to a side, catching a glimpse of Gabriel approaching with a jar full of water. Crowley huffed.  _ Oh, no _ . They had figured out about the swap, for sure. Who knows if they had done something to Aziraphale to make him talk, but Crowley had no time to be mad about that. If he were to die, first he had to do what had driven him into this deadly trap.

Crowley tried to extend his hand, tried to make Aziraphale look at him. But the angel was too far from him now, pleading and blocking Gabriel’s way. However, Gabriel was no lower angel and when he put a hand on Aziraphale, the angel was pushed to the floor, falling without the option of fighting back and starting to tremble due to what was surely a rush of hurtful energy. The demon made a low growl, menacing, and Gabriel stood before him, looking at him coldly.

“You’ve no escape now, demon,” he said, a heartless smirk appearing on his lips. “No childish trick.”

“ _ Wanker _ ,” Crowley breathed out, resigning that this had been for nothing. He wouldn’t be able to say what he needed to say to Aziraphale.

He inhaled when Gabriel’s expression twisted with contained rage and poured the jar of holy water over him. Eyes closed, he heard Aziraphale shout his name, a sound so full of pain that seemed to make the whole Creation tremble for a second. 

Crowley expected the burning pain that would consume him, turn him into a melted puddle and then into ash. He smelt the holiness of the water covering him. He waited. And waited. And nothing happened.

The demon opened his eyes and, for a second, he thought it had worked, because everything was completely silent around him, so silent it had to be death. But he saw the blinding white tiles of Heaven before him, now wet with holy water. His hair and clothes were wet too, smelling of displeasing holiness, and he was still whole, untouched. He felt the hands grabbing him letting go.

“Liar!” Gabriel yelled and Crowley looked up, holy water getting into his eyes and not doing anything but feel unpleasant, just as normal water would. Gabriel had turned around, looking at Aziraphale, pale and gazing at Crowley as if he was a ghost. Still on the floor. “You said you had swapped for the trials!” He approached him more, threat written all over his posture. “What is this? What are you trying to do, uh? Is this some kind of complot?” Gabriel turned around to Crowley again, eyes ice cold. He pointed menacingly to the angels behind him. “Don’t let him go!”

Michael appeared by him, crossing the room fast, and whispered something to him. Crowley couldn’t hear what, but apparently Aziraphale did, and the terror returned to his eyes. Michael fled the room right away, after getting a nod from Gabriel. Aziraphale seemed to want to wake up, but couldn’t.

“You have no right… To use  _ my _ sword,” Aziraphale struggled to say, looking at Gabriel.

“It’s not your sword anymore. But don’t worry, traitor. You’ll get executed with your dear demon right after him.”

Crowley was still processing that the holiest water hadn’t hurt him, not even a little. But the threat Gabriel had just thrown against Aziraphale made a desperate idea bloom into him. If holy water couldn’t hurt him, maybe…

For a moment, Crowley was sure he’d gone mad. This rushed plan to assure their survival would be the craziest and stupidest thing he’d done, and would ever do. And had very low chances to work, but Crowley was desperate and would try anything to get Aziraphale out of this situation, to protect him from this cruel lot.

He would kick his ass later for pushing him to this, he swore internally, although there wasn’t a bit of resentment in it.

“Aziraphale,” he called him, weakly. 

Aziraphale looked at him, their gazes meeting, and clenched his jaw, crawling pathetically to where Crowley was, the pain clear in every one of his movements. Crowley watched the scene, his resolution getting stronger. A few tears escaped him when Aziraphale reached the demon, collapsing on the floor before him, desperation written all over his face.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley,” he whimpered. “I… I’m such a fool. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Crowley sighed, bending over to approach him more, faces close now. He gave him a weak smirk. “Same old story, isn’t it? I always end up saving you.”

“Not always,” he panted. “Not now, my dear.”

Crowley closed his eyes a second, breathing in, and looked at him again, feeling his heart beating wildly. “I wanted to tell you something,” Crowley explained. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you.”

“What?” Aziraphale furrowed, deflating, understanding finally the reason why the demon had stormed into this horrible place.

“I… I love you,” Crowley muttered, gulping, feeling his demonic pride roaring with embarrassment even now. “Since the start... I’ve been in love with you. Since Eden.”

His blue eyes widened, surprise and sadness filling his irises. “Cr-Crowley…” He whimpered. 

“Would you be my friend, even knowing this? If we survived… Would you?” Crowley asked, shaking. “Just need to know that. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

“My dear…” Aziraphale tried to push himself into a sitting position, but the pain kept him down.

“Please… Tell me.”

“Of course, I would, silly,” he cried softly.

Crowley let out a relieved sigh, smiling. “Right. You better keep your word, angel,” he warned teasingly. “Do me a favour and back away a little.”

“ _ What? _ ” Aziraphale huffed, seeming slightly offended.

“Trust me,” he whispered, barely audible. “I have a plan.”

Aziraphale didn’t seem to want to do that, but gave him the trust he was asking for and dragged himself a few meters away from him, turning to keep his eyes on the demon. Crowley breathed in again, still not believing what he was about to do.

He looked up, searched in his soul, searched thoughtfully, and found a spark of light, something that he hadn’t suspected that could exist still. Not five minutes ago, at least. He held onto that spark with all of his strength, closed his eyes, and extended his physical hands into a pleading gesture.

“God, forgive me,” he started, voice steady, pleading but sure, words formed with an ancient tongue, one he hadn’t used since he Fell. “Listen to my prayer. Listen to my beg for absolution.”

“Crowley, what are you doing?” He heard Aziraphale scream, sounding shaken.

Crowley ignored it. “I regret my sins and my lack of Faith. I regret my questions and doubts. I let go of this horrid nature, of the false leader I was tied to, and openly ask for forgiveness. I surrender to thee, my Lord Almighty. I accept the punishment you assigned me and now I’m ready to embrace the Light of yours. I felt it in my soul. Please: listen to me. Listen to these honest words, the will to be your faithful servant.”

He took a shaking breath, feeling something start to reach his soul.

“Please, Mother. Hear your son, Raphael. I’m truthfully searching for your forgiveness. I’ll accept any condition.”

“Stop dragging yourself, my dear,” a soft voice surrounded him. “There’s no need for that. What a speech,  _ oh Me _ .”

Crowley opened his eyes, finding himself in a place made of infinite light, free from the pain and the angels gripping him. A figure stood before him, cupping his face gently, an entity made of translucent light, mane floating around Her and sparkling eyes full of pride. He felt shaken to the core suddenly, when She leaned to him, pressing a kiss on his forehead. His body warmed up, shivers running over his skin, and he felt an ancient sensation harboring in his soul. 

God’s love.

However, it wasn’t the only thing he felt. He felt her pain and joy too. He sensed the truth of her being and realised he got it all wrong. She hadn’t cast them out, but those ruling Heaven: the other Archangels. He saw everything from her perspective, just for a second, and sensed his soul bleed with sorrow.

“Mother,” he sighed, feeling any resentment towards his Creator slipping from him.

“My sweet son, I never wanted you to suffer,” She muttered, looking into his eyes and caressing his cheeks. “None of you.”

Crowley realized they’d had free will since the start. They could’ve acted as they thought right or wrong. It had been a precedent to help to guide the Creation. She gave them a purpose and they had to follow as their souls demanded. They just had been told it was the opposite.

“Anyway, there’s no time for that,” She said, smiling. “You’ve things to attend to.”

“ _ What _ ,” he gasped, still astonished and feeling dizzy.

“I give you what you ask. But don’t get all dramatic; you’re not a servant and I love what you and Aziraphale are doing on Earth, so... And, also, keep me the secret of what I’ve shown you, alright? If the archangels start to scream into my inbox, I go crazy,” She said, almost teasingly. “Well, I let you tell Aziraphale, but just him.”

Crowley blinked a few times. He clearly had forgotten how God truly was, after so many millennia without feeling or seeing her. No wonder her Creation was what it was.

She wiggled a little, smiling wider. “ _ Ah _ ,” she sighed. “I’ve missed you. I was so glad to see you still had a sparkle even when you changed. I  _ really _ needed you to expect an answer from me. I could do nothing otherwise. But you don’t have to change now, alright? And I’ll leave a little bit of dark, for balance. Now, rush. I won’t be able to do more than this, but it’ll be enough. Our little secret. Take care of both of you, and of humanity. I love you,” she was talking too fast, as if she was in a rush too. “And! Before I forget, you two have permission to get involved,  _ you know _ . No fury of God or Falling, or anything like that. I celebrate love. It’s everything. It’s what I am. Yes? Alright: there you go.”

_ Mother, you’re a mess _ , Crowley thought, unable to vocalise it since he felt gravity shifting a little, as if he’d been hit by a rush of strong wind. When the light faded and he saw the tiles of Heaven again, there were no angels holding him, no pain, and a recovered power running through him. Everything was silent, the softness of his breathing the only thing audible.

_ She had done it. _

He stood up, supporting his weight on the golden staff that had appeared in his hand. He looked at it, recognizing it as his old staff, feeling the object responding to him as if it was greeting him. Once on his feet, he looked at the white tunic covering him now, his mane having grown long again, contrasting wildly against the robes. Then, he turned his face to a side, looking at his wings, bright and white. He had a moment of shock staring at them, an overwhelming feeling taking over him. After this, he looked at his robes again. There had been no need to do that, but She’d changed his clothes just for the effect, clearly.

“No dramatism,  _ clearly _ ,” he scoffed softly, feeling a vibration in his recovered connection with Her. She was laughing somewhere, he was sure.

Crowley looked up, finding the lower angels around him backing away, the two Archangels looking at him with wild eyes, and Aziraphale silent and paralyzed on the floor. He breathed in and reached for him, bending over and touching him, sinking his fingers on his spirit. Aziraphale let out a relieved sound, the pain and the bounds that Gabriel had put on him disappearing.

“See? I always rescue you,” he smirked.

Aziraphale kept still on the floor, looking at him with his mouth slightly slack. 

“R-Raphael,” he heard Gabriel stutter. 

Crowley turned to him, giving him a cold glance. He put his staff over his shoulders, backing his hands on it, his posture completely nonchalant.

“Hey, brother,” Crowley said devilishly. “Missed me?”

A door was heard, everybody turning to see Michael with the flaming sword, standing by the door. “Oh, Lord…” The Archangel gasped, dropping the sword.

“This is not possible,” Gabriel muttered.

“Well, Mom seems to object to that,” Crowley looked down at himself and batted his wings. “Feels pretty much like I’ve gotten my old job back.”

It was common knowledge that angels kind of forgot who was who when some angels fell. Another way of rejection that came with the punishment, creatures so filthy that didn’t even deserve being remembered how they were as angels. And now Crowley knew who was behind that punishment and wanted to burn that place down more than ever. But he had other priorities.

“But don’t worry. I’m not interested in staying around or taking your places,” he added, backing his staff against the ground again. He turned to Aziraphale, who was still on the floor. He tilted his head to a side. “Let’s get you a body and go home, angel. Can you walk?”

He nodded softly and, trembling, stood up. Crowley turned towards the door and Aziraphale followed him. Michael was frozen by the door, following him with frightened eyes.

“I’ll take this. Thaaaank you,” Crowley said, smirking, taking away the flaming sword from Michael and passing it to Aziraphale. He opened the door to let the angel out and turned around to look at everybody in the room. “Peace, fuckers,” he smiled and slipped out.

Once they were out and walking down the corridor, Crowley felt all the tension leaving his body at once. He let out a relieved sigh, almost a grunt, and cracked his neck, tilting it to the sides. 

“ _ Ah _ , that was fun,” he said, smirking. “Their faces have been priceless. I think I could get used to appearing by and making a scene,” he stopped then, bothered by the tunic and the wings. “Wait a second,” he hid his wings and snapped his fingers with an ascendant movement by instinct and nothing happened. He blinked, confused, and realized his mistake. “Oh, right.”

He snapped his fingers again, this time the movement descendent, changing his clothes into the black ones he’d had before. Feeling more comfortable now, he smiled softly.

“That’s better,” he sighed. “Let’s get you a body, come on.”

They started to walk down the corridor once more, towards the room where bodies were stored. When they were about to reach the stairs to get to lower floors, Crowley started to laugh softly, stopping again and looking at Aziraphale with amusement.

“Wait,” he tittered, realizing he had his old powers back. “I  _ can _ do that. There’s no need to go there.”

He snapped his fingers again, focusing on the body still laying on the bookshop. Reality twisted under his power, fixing what was broken, returning what was rightfully Aziraphale’s to him. A light surrounded him for a second, making him gasp, and then it was gone, leaving him again inside his body. Aziraphale uttered a soft grunt, caressing his vest carefully, as if checking himself.

“Have I done it right? Do you feel fine? ‘M afraid I’m a little rusty,” Crowley muttered, smiling.

Aziraphale barely looked at him, but nodded. Crowley felt his relief vanish at the sight, his heart clenching painfully.

“Let’s go home, come on,” he mumbled with a low voice.

They walked out of Heaven without saying a thing to the other and made their way through London’s streets barely exchanging a sound. Crowley, even if worried by how silent his friend was, couldn’t be anything but glad the angel was out of Heaven and far from the horrible angels roaming there. Probably, Aziraphale needed a bit of time to process everything. Differently from angels, demons remembered who they were and Crowley never told Aziraphale who he’d been. The truth was that he’d tried to keep a low profile. He was the only Archangel who’d fallen, aside from Lucifer, and, honestly, the fact that he’d been degraded to a low demon was enough to catch the hint. He had to stay out of his way and do his thing and not attract attention, if he wanted to survive. Crowley liked surviving, so… He hid it pretty well. He discovered he conserved most of his powers, which wasn’t good. So, he opted to make everyone believe he couldn’t be anything else but a low demon for real.

In the pre-Fall era, he and Aziraphale didn’t know each other personally but, surely, the angel had seen him at some point. And he could remember now that the Archangel Raphael, Fallen so long ago, had been Crowley all along. Also, Crowley was an actual angel again and he was getting worried that Aziraphale didn’t feel comfortable with him now. Or maybe it was the confession. Suddenly, Crowley needed a drink with utter desperation.

Once they were before the bookshop’s door, Crowley snapped his fingers to miracle everything clean inside, shivering at the thought of blood and stained books. Aziraphale shot him a glance, but didn’t comment. When they slipped inside, Crowley felt another shiver again, feeling a little disturbed, the scene he’d witnessed that morning still burning in his eyes. He wanted to launch himself over the angel, hug him tight, but, clearly, it wasn’t the moment for that.

“Care for a drink?” Crowley muttered. 

Aziraphale hummed, walking to the back room of the bookshop. Crowley’s heart broke a little at the sight, at how much the angel had needed an excuse to flee from his side. He felt tempted to open the door and leave, but ended up following Aziraphale and picking up one of the tumblers he’d filled. He let himself collapse on the couch, sighing and backing his staff against the wall, next to the sword. He almost drowned the whole drink at once. Tentatively, the angel sat on his chair, looking at the liquid and taking little sips.

Crowley, after a few minutes, and after having refilled and emptied his drink twice, couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Are you going to be all weird around me now?” He snapped, although trying to keep his voice soft. His friend still didn’t raise his eyes, still didn’t open his mouth. “Aziraphale,” Crowley grunted, desperate.

The angel rose his eyes immediately, looking a little startled, as if Crowley had burst the bubble he was in.

Crowley readjusted in his seat, uncomfortable. “Are you mad? Is that?” 

“No,” he whispered. “Of course not.”

Well, that was something, at least. Crowley sat over the edge of the couch, bouncing his leg nervously. “Then, what?”

Aziraphale went completely still for a moment and Crowley fumbled with his tumbler, even more nervous before the way the angel was looking at him now. His gaze was cryptic and he couldn’t discern exactly what was behind it, what was inside his mind.

“You  _ never _ told me this,” he stated, suddenly looking sad and tired. “Who you were...  _ Are _ .”

“It didn’t matter.”

Aziraphale wriggled, uncomfortable. “But, it does… You are… An  _ Archangel _ . You’re  _ Raphael _ ,” Aziraphale almost exclaimed. “You’ve asked for forgiveness and the Almighty has conceded it to you. You’ve Risen. That’s…” He gaped, as if trying to find the right word, falling silent when he couldn’t.

Crowley felt his throat tighten. “Yeah. So what? You were right. It’s possible to be forgiven. But I’m the same as always. Don’t think I’ve changed.”

Crowley pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling his body tensing again. Maybe he really looked different. He stood up, approaching a near shelf that had an old mirror. Looking at himself, he couldn’t discern much difference. His eyes were the same and he still had the snake near his temple. Maybe that was what She meant. Maybe She’d left a little of his demonic self, knowing he would miss some of it. How considerate, really. 

After a little scrutiny, he turned around and sat again under the curious eyes of Aziraphale.

“See? Same old me,” he said.

Aziraphale furrowed and he could see he was repressing the need to call him ‘idiot’ with all his strength. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want Aziraphale to change the way he treated him. “It’s not  _ that _ , Crowl…” he grumbled and stopped, “My dear,” he said instead.

Crowley felt his heart sinking, breaking into a million pieces. He lowered his head, looking at his empty tumbler, feeling tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Holding them back was taking him more strength than he could conjure right then.

“Forgive me…” Aziraphale whispered regretfully, noticing Crowley’s reaction. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if you feel different or how I should call you. I don’t know if… I know nothing, now.”

“‘M the same, Aziraphale,” Crowley mumbled. “Nothing has to change. Right, I’m an angel again, but… The rest is the same. I don’t want you to treat me as if I suddenly was your boss or somethin’.”

The room fell silent for a minute. Crowley kept still, clenching his jaw and holding back his emotions. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Aziraphale asked in a low voice.

“‘Cause it didn’t matter,” he started, talking slowly, fearing to lose control of his shattered feelings. “Angels weren’t supposed to remember us and it was better like that. At least, for me. Keeping a low profile and all that. We were just two Archangels who Fell and, honestly, I didn’t want trouble with Luci down there. Didn’t want to seem a threat or to be used as a weapon, so I kind of faked I wasn’t suited for more than a low demon.”

“That’s… Understandable. But…” He sighed, sounding frustrated. “You could have told  _ me _ .”

“What would’ve changed, if I did?” Crowley furrowed, looking up again. “Tell me,  _ ssseriously _ . I was fine with everything as it was. I was fine with  _ myself _ , after all. I didn’t want to dwell or be pitied. Was trying to avoid precisely this. You’re looking at me as if I was different and  _ I hate it _ . You can’t even call me by my name now.”

He stood up, unable to stay quiet there and approached the table to pour more liquid inside his tumbler, not looking at Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale muttered. “I… I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

Crowley grunted, returning to the sofa, splaying there with his back against one armrest, looking in front of him and avoiding the angel’s eyes.

“I just need… To process it for a while,” he explained with a hint of restlessness. 

A beat. “You want me to leave?” Crowley mumbled.

“Oh, no. Of course not, dear,” Aziraphale rushed to say.

Silent, Crowley nodded once and drank without saying a word. He felt about to merge with the sofa, disappear into his growing sorrow. Eventually, Aziraphale stood up slowly, sitting on the edge of the couch. His heart started to beat wildly and kept his eyes on the tumbler between his hands, moving his left leg to avoid touching Aziraphale. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale almost whispered, making him shiver. “May you look at me, please?”

Gathering some strength to keep a neutral expression, he did, meeting the angel’s eyes, full of worry. 

“It’s been… Shocking, to discover this about you. I can’t deny it. And… A lot of memories about you I had blurred have cleared and… Well, I’m a little overwhelmed but… The thing is, I’m worried as well. I don’t want things to change either.”

Crowley furrowed. “I’ve told you that…”

“Not because of me. Because of you,” Aziraphale cut him off, expression falling more.

“Obviously,” Crowley blurted out, slightly annoyed at the obviousness.

The angel seemed exasperated, although with himself. “Not… That’s not what I meant. Listen,” he took a deep breath and wriggled a little, setting his hands on his lap firmly. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done. I was careless and got myself discorporated in the most foolish way and you still came to search for me. I have to add that you’ve been careless too, but, besides that… I thank you. But you must know too that I can’t avoid feeling… Responsible. For your change, that is,” he avoided his gaze, looking away, his shoulders falling more. “You’d never have done such a thing if my foolishness hadn’t pushed you to that extreme. I didn’t want you to change, Crowley; believe me. I know I said some things in the past but… I loathe that I had been the reason you needed to, and just to rescue me.”

Crowley softened in his spot, witnessing the angel fret. It warmed his heart to know the angel had accepted his nature in the end, grown comfortable enough with their status quo to forget it had bothered him before.

“‘S fine, angel,” he tried to smile, but barely managed. “Like this… Heaven can’t mess with us and Hell has no power over me now. If one of us gets discorporated again, it won’t be a problem.”

“If you put it that way…” Aziraphale muttered, unsure, something sad still wandering in his gaze.

“I know there’s more. Tell me,” he urged, very gently.

“I’m… Worried that you’ll resent me eventually,” he admitted, looking away again.

“I won’t. I’ll get used to the holiness again; so, don’t fret. I’ve carte blanche anyway. Don’t think anything will change radically for me. I don’t have to go around doing good deeds or anything. I can temp and mess around if I want.”

“Carte blanche?” Aziraphale muttered, turning to him with a quizzical expression.

He smirked, miracling his tumbler full again. “Oh, I’ve had a talk with the Almighty,” he told Aziraphale about his brief encounter with God and everything She’d said. Well, everything except one thing. “I think I disturbed her coffee break,” he snickered, taking a sip, remembering how She’d talked in a rush. “She barely made sense.”

“I can’t… Believe the Archangels are responsible for the Fall,” Aziraphale mumbled, paler as he’d seen him in a while and a little breathless.

“They’ve always been a bunch of wankers. I hated the reunions with them. So fucking boring,” Crowley blurted out and then sighed. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“My God…” Aziraphale breathed out, horrified.

Crowley noticed the train wreck of thoughts happening in his mind, reflected on his eyes, and sat straight, approaching him and tilting to a side to force their gazes to meet.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t think too much about it. There’s no point. Everything is okay now.”

Aziraphale stayed still for a few seconds, until he gave him a little nod and dropped his eyes to his tumbler, taking a sip. He couldn’t help but sigh, chest tightening with worry again. His friend hadn’t said a thing about his confession yet and he didn’t know if that was good or bad. Maybe it hadn’t been news for Aziraphale. Maybe he’d known it all along. Not that Crowley was expecting anything to change, really.

“We could go out for dinner,” Crowley said, wanting to distract Aziraphale, to reaffirm to him that nothing was different between them. “What do you think?”

The angel rose his head again, looking at Crowley with a strange expression. He gulped, taking his eyes away for a second again and making a nervous sound.

“Actually, I… I rather we stay here,” Aziraphale mumbled, his clear irises sparkling. 

“ _ Oh _ . ‘Kay, then,” he whispered, feeling his stomach twisting.

The silence fell over them for a few short moments, even if it felt eternal to Crowley. Eventually, Aziraphale broke it. “Dear,” he breathed out, turning all his body towards him, slowly, which only fuelled Crowley’s nerves more. “There’s something that I can’t get out of my head and I need to ask you.”

“Anything,” Crowley muttered, trying to drown his nervousness with another long sip, his tumbler miracled full again.

Aziraphale’s expression twisted slightly, clearly uncomfortable. “What you said up there, that… That you loved me. Well, I think you must know that… I mean…” He mumbled and made a pause. “To hell with it,” he sighed in the end, seeming momentarily exasperated with his own struggle and his focus on Crowley changed. His eyes started to sparkle and filled with a fondness tainted with desperation. He reached for one of Crowley’s hands, held it between both of his on his lap, making the demon feel as if his skin there had lighted up. “I love you too. I truly, deeply love you.”

Crowley blinked slowly. “But…” He could hear the mechanisms in his head screeching. “Like... ? No, _ seriously _ , Azirapahle,” he scoffed, in denial.

“I’m serious,” the angel furrowed, seeming mildly offended. “I would never joke about this.”

Crowley blinked again. “Uh…” He wasn’t expecting this outcome. “Ngk.”

Aziraphale beamed at him, a faint blush tainting his cheeks, and leaned over, approaching the demon more until their faces were barely apart. Crowley produced another choked sound, his nostrils invaded with the angel’s scent, his senses with the near warmth of him. Gulping, he kept very still, looking into the tender gaze fixed on him, feeling stupid for being so afraid right then. It would be so easy to close the gap, the space between their mouths. But he couldn’t. After six millennia of slowing down, of restricting oneself and finally accepting some things weren’t to be, he just couldn’t. And now that he had his most impossible dream come true he was terrified of it. Terrified of not being good enough.

“I don’t know… What were you expecting and it’s fine if you don’t want anything to change, or if you don’t want some things, but…” Aziraphale sighed, sitting even closer. “I’d like it very much if you kissed me now. And I repeat, you don’t hav...”

But maybe he just needed complete clarity. So, right after those words had come out of the angel’s mouth, Crowley cupped his head from behind, sinking his fingers in pale curls, and ate the space between their mouths and Aziraphale’s ramble all at once. The very instant their lips touched, a moan escaped from both of them, the kiss turning deep before it had been chaste. They held onto the other, hands searching arms and backs to hold onto, hair to grab, to pull closer, to consume. 

The thing about repressing something for so long is that the most probable thing to happen is an explosion. A quick, unexpected one, concretely.

Five minutes ago they were confessing. Four, leaning closer for their first kiss. Now, Aziraphale had grabbed Crowley’s and driven him to sit on his lap, their movements desperate and wanton, marked with a need that had been swallowed for too long. Crowley wasn’t thinking much; all he could conceive was  _ more _ ,  _ needing more  _ of the angel,  _ whatever _ he gave him.

Before they could process anything, they were skin to skin, all their clothes abandoned, ripped like an evil barrier keeping them apart. The desperation, the weight of millennia was visible in their eyes, in their hands trying to touch every part of the other, in their moans and sighs.

They exchanged looks, words of praise and love and permission, and found their eternal way to the other, joining their bodies and souls as one. 

They held each other tightly, sinking in the mutual pleasure, bursting with the love they both could feel now. And it felt so natural, this. A thing forbidden. An impossibility. A forgiven demon, made angel again, joined with an ancient one, fallen not in sin, but in love, with the being he was meant to hate. 

And, maybe, it was. Natural. It had always felt like this, for Crowley, at least. 

Crowley sensed the broken pieces of him remade, repaired. Not because he was an angel again, but because he had the reason of his very breath in him, around him,  _ with him _ . The adoration in the angel's eyes, the reverence of his hands, holding him close, was enough to give him the strength for fighting Heaven, Hell and anything in between, just to see it forever.  _ The love _ , flowing from his angel, covering him whole, embracing every inch of him, made his own angelic essence spill, white wings unfurling into existence, drove him to the edge harder than physical sensations alone could. 

The night went on, and so did their lovemaking, both angels not ready to let go of each other, to show the intensity of their want and love. Morning was close, when they found themselves, laying on the sofa, limbs tangled and bodies still pressed close in the little space. Crowley had kept his wings out, covering both of them, and caressed Aziraphale's curls with his fingers, his head resting on the former demon's chest. He'd never felt so at ease in his whole existence, so happy. So loved. 

“Well…” Crowley muttered. “That was unexpected.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale moved his head a little, giving him a concerned look. “Has it been too fast?”

Crowley laughed due to the irony of it. “I've wanted you forever. There's no way this could’ve been fast. Just… Unexpected.”

“In a good way?” He curled against his chest again, stroking his hair there with his fingertips, drawing little circles. 

“Fuck… Good is not enough. Fucking sublime is better. And even that falls short.”

Aziraphale giggled. “I love you, my darling.”

Crowley, smiling, pressed a kiss on his head, breathing in his ethereal scent. “I love you too.”

“And… I think,” he sighed, moving his hand to caress the edge of one of his wings. “You are sinfully beautiful.”

He scoffed. “Glad to be a little sinful, still.”

Crowley felt him smiling, writhing a little as if he wanted to be even closer. Aziraphale was silent for a while and Crowley closed his eyes, trying to bask in all the wonderful sensations he was feeling. 

“Crowley?” 

“Yup?” 

“Would you…” He hesitated and Crowley felt Aziraphale's accelerated pulse against his ribs. “Want to live together? You and me?” 

His eyes snapped open, pulse quickening too. “What?” 

“It's just an idea. We don't have to,” he explained, not able to hide the slight panic raising in him. 

“Uhm… Do you mean…? Like, here? At the bookshop?” Crowley stuttered.

“Actually… I was thinking we could… Make something new for us. Something mutual. A cottage, maybe.”

“That…  _ Yeah _ . Of course, I want to live with you. I'm totally in, but… What about the bookshop?” 

“I'll keep it or… Maybe not. I don't know. I just want to start anew, with you.”

Crowley felt as if melting against the sofa, face burning, eyes getting blurry. He hugged him tighter and buried his nose in the angel's curls. “Okay. Let's do it, then.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whined. “Thank you.”

They stayed there until the sun rose and, then, got out of the bookshop with the intention of buying a cottage. The morning was cold but the sky was bright with clear sunshine and Aziraphale's hand clasped on his was very, very warm. In the air around them seemed to float a warm breeze, no matter the temperature, and they walked together, smiling and laughing, the promise of a new life written all over them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to finish all my WIPs and post them before my Master crushes me. I'm dying but NO REGRETS. TOTALLY WORTH IT.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com/)!


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